Forged in Ice and Kissed by Fire
by Order of Alignment
Summary: Five years after the second War for Dawn, Jon and Sansa find themselves back in their old beds, a week before Eddard Stark receives word of Jon Arryn's death. [Time-Travel]
1. Chapter 1

Ned I

He watched with unconcealed concern as his nephew stumbled into the dining hall long after the Stark family had begun to break their fast and the rest of Winterfell's inhabitants departed, bags underneath his eyes. He could not say the same for his Lady Wife Catelyn, who simply scowled at the late coming of his bastard, no doubt accusing him in her mind of smearing the Stark name with his bastard blood because of his tardiness..

Ned sighed. He hated it when she did that, redirecting anger at Jon when it should be aimed at _him_, but he could do nothing, for it kept Jon safe from those who would use him. From those who would harm him.

From Robert.

The Warden of the North watched Jon closely as he sat down besides Robb and Theon, with an incredulous look on his face, hands trembling as he exchanged morning greetings with his brother and embracing him quickly, to Robb's surprise. Even Theon got a hug, with the Ironborn quickly shrugging it away, face flushed with embarrassment. Robb laughed, as did Jon, though it was different than the way he used to. More quiet.

Ned frowned slightly. _It's as if he hasn't seen us in years._

Then he turned to look at his 'sisters' and Ned's heart warmed at the way Jon smiled at them, and Arya smiled back. That was expected, as Jon and his youngest daughter were nearly inseparable, as if they were true siblings.

It was Sansa's response that garnered his attention the most however. His oldest daughter, who usually ignored Jon, imitating her mother, actually turned to look at Jon.

They both froze, and stared.

Ned was no fool. He had noticed Sansa's slight change that had seemingly happened overnight. No longer did she regale him or her mother of her dreams of the South, which is what she usually did, and instead of the excessive and extravagant Southern hairstyle she had insisted her maids style her hair after, she now wore a simple Northern braid.

She no longer seemed to have that innocent happiness that he had seen her express multiple times before, usually when she received a new Southern-style dress or accessory. Instead, a frostiness seemed to have descended upon her during the night, and she wore it on her face, which had been near expressionless as she sat down to eat.

That was not the case now.

Sansa stood slowly, and Jon followed suit, all the while never tearing their eyes away from each other. Jon circled the longtable to meet her, and Sansa moved to do the same, and they met each other at the middle.

Catylen's scowl deepened.

When they reached each other at last, they spoke in hushed words that Ned could not hear, not for lack of trying.

Then Sansa let out a quiet sob and threw her arms around Jon. Jon did likewise.

Ned was lucky that it was only his family in the mess hall; for the highborn daughter of Eddard Stark to fling herself into his bastard's embrace would surely be the talk of the North. He took small comfort in knowing that disaster averted, and he silently thanked the Old Gods.

Robb and Theon gaped at the scene, and rightfully so; the Sansa they knew would have _never_ hugged Jon, let alone initiate contact. Rickon ignored them and continued to eat, while Arya stared in confusion and more than a hint of jealousy. Bran simply smiled.

Lady Catelyn, however, would have none of it.

"_Release her at once!_" She wasted no time standing and striding over to the two, pulling Sansa out of his grasp, who flinched away from her mother's grasp. "Sansa, my sweet, what are you doing? You mustn't acknowledge the bastard, you know this!" she adds harshly. "And you," she glared at Jon, who ignored her, only focusing on Sansa. "How dare you sully her with your hands!" This time, she turned towards the head of the table, where Ned was quickly rising from his seat. "Ned, this cannot stand! He has to go! I will no longer tolerate-"

"Cat, please," Ned sighed. "We must discuss this first. Jon, Sansa, my solar. Now."

Jon frowned, and opened his mouth, only to stop when Sansa placed a hand on his arm and shot him a firm but gentle look. His eyes softened as he looked at her, and he sighed. "Aye… father."

As he turned to go, Sansa slipped her hand into his, to Catylen's fury, and the two walked (or, more like Sansa dragged Jon) out of the mess hall towards his solar.

Ned watched them go for a moment before reluctantly joining them, after somehow managing to convince his Lady Wife not to accompany him. His mind worked furiously as he strode towards the Winterfell's solar, and his thoughts led him to the night just before.

It was her screams that brought them to her room in the middle of the night, where they found her crying hysterically, which only increased when she caught sight of her. It had taken an hour for her to let go of them, and another half-hour to fall back into a fitful sleep. They never managed to get any response, only when they asked what ailed her did she respond, telling them she had nightmares of their deaths.

After assuring her that she and Ned would not be dying anytime soon, Catelyn had stayed with her while Ned departed to get the three of them drinking water. By the time he had returned, she looked calmer, and apologized for waking them.

"My sweet summer child," he had said, smiling. "You have nothing to apologize for."

He had heard later in the morning from the maids that Jon had woken around the same time with the same reaction, screaming. It shamed him that he could not have been there, but he put aside his guilt reluctantly.

_Forgive me, Lyanna._

The Warden reached his solar, took a breath, and walked inside.

Again, his children surprised him when when he noted that they were sitting as far away from each other as possible, both on opposite sides of his desk. Filing that information away, he strode to his set and sat, before shooting them each a look. "Now, do one of you care to explain what happened in there?"

Jon shifted in his seat, so Sansa took it upon herself to speak. "I think I'm still recovering from last night," she told him. Jon shot her a look of surprised confusion. "I wasn't thinking straight. Sorry, father."

Eddard held her gaze for a few more moments, before turning to his nephew. "And you, Jon?"

The dragonwolf shrugged. "She wouldn't let me go. I thought is would make her Lady mother even more enraged if I just left without giving her comfort." Ned did not miss the quick look that Sansa shot at Jon, but let it go.

Eddard Stark was an honorable fool, that he knew, but he was no _stupid_ fool. He didn't believe any of the provided answers for a moment, but the two in front of him provided no more, staying silent and waiting for his queue.

He gave it. "Jon, go to your chambers. It would be best for you to stay out of Lady Catelyn's way today, understood?"

"Aye, father." With that, Jon got up and swiftly left. Ned would have to make sure he got to his chambers without any run-ins with his wife when he was finished with Sansa.

Speaking of which…

"Sansa, my sweet. Are you sure you are are feeling well? We can suspend your lessons for today, if you feel it is necessary.

Sansa looked at him with a grateful expression. "Thank you, father, but I think I will be fine."

Ned nodded. "If you say so. Be sure to speak to Maester Luwin if anything ails you. And you should speak to your mother, and make sure she understands why you did what you did." _Even if I do not._

Sansa nodded, and stood. "Yes, father." Then she left, leaving Ned alone in his solar, and he suddenly realized that he had to go through all his papers before the end of the day.

He sighed once again. The life of a Lord Paramount was no easy one.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa I

She took comfort in the warmth Jon's hand seemed to flood her with. As if sensing her thoughts, he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Neither wanted to speak, walking down the halls of Winterfell, simply content to bask in each other's presence. The silence only held until halfway to her father's solar, and only when Sansa had confirmed there was no one close enough to eavedrop did she speak. "We need to be seen separate after this."

Jon winced, as if the notion of such a thing was physically harmful, and Sansa wholeheartedly concurred, because it _was _painful.

The first time in years they had seen each other since King's Landing, the first time she had actually felt _warm _since the North gained independence, and soon they would have to return to their cold, distant ways, at least in public.

Not for the first time, she wondered why her mother couldn't have loved Jon.

"No, I understand," Jon said, breaking through Sansa's thoughts. "We need to keep up pretenses, make them think everything is normal Doesn't mean I have to like it, though, Jon grumbled, and Sansa smiled.

Of all the possibilities of what could have happened after she died, being transported back in time was something she had never expected. She had woken up on her bed, in the room she had slept in while Ramsay held Winterfell, and screamed.

When her father burst through the door besides her mother, she had cried, clinging to them for an amount of time lost to her.

At the time she had brushed of their concerns siting nightmares, and she had fallen into a fitful sleep.

It was only after she woke up that she truly came to terms with her predicament, and desired to make the most of the time given to her. She had attend the morning meal stoic but light-hearted, and her happiness only increased when she finally reach the Great Hall.

Robb, Rickon, Theon, Arya, Bran, Mother, Father… all alive and well.

She intended to keep it that way.

She was also like-mindedly determined to take her secrets to the grave, greatly disliking the idea of burdening her family with her knowledge.

So, like everything else she had done since King's Landing, she prepared to save her family alone.

And then Jon stumbled into the Great Hall.

She couldn't believe it at first; after all, what were the chances of him being in the same predicament as her?

But then he sat down and embraced his family as if he had not seen them in years. Still, she hadn't been sure. She hoped, but the Old Gods seemed to take delight in robbing her of even that, so she buried that hope.

Then he looked at her, and that hope resurfaced with a vengeance a thousandfold multiplied.

Sansa was snapped out of her thoughts as Jon nudged her, and she was a tad bit surprised to find they were already outside her Father's solar. Down the hall, they could here the Lord Paramount's footsteps echoing, so both she and Jon entered the solar. Without speaking any words, they dragged the chairs they would be seated in away from each other, and sat. Jon instantly took the aura of brooding, whilst Sansa put on an embarrassed front.

She hated it, but it would be easier to explain going to Jon in a moment of weakness than telling her Lord Father she had embraced the man she had not seen in years.

The one she had thought was dead.

...

...

...

After giving her (admittedly) semi-decent alibi, Sansa exited the solar and instinctively looked downwards to the right. There was a slip of parchment, and she picked it up.

_We should talk soon. The Heart Tree, midnight._

She nodded to herself, ripped the parchment to shreds, dropped it out of a window. Pausing for a moment, she turned towards the courtyard. There was someone she wanted to talk to, someone taken by Baelish years ago.

She wondered, offhandedly, if Jeyne Poole would recognize the Sansa she had once been.

* * *

Jon I

He collapsed in front of the Heat Tree and cried. It was far to much to take in, even for him.

When he had died the second time, he had been expecting to burn in the Seven Hells for his follies. Instead, he found himself in a pseudo-heaven where his family was alive, and Sansa remembered.

And unlike his first resurrection, he felt _whole_. Whatever had gone wrong when R'holler had brought him back had been undone, and for the first time in years he felt like himself.

Well, mostly. He missed Ghost.

He could still fell the unborn direwolf, somewhere in the North in the womb of its mother, but he also felt something else.

Older. Familiar.

He would have to explore that at some point. He wouldn't feel that call if it wasn't for nothing. The Old Gods obviously don't deal in loose ends.

He wasn't sure how long he spent kneeling in front of the Heart Tree, only stirring from his half-prayer-half-sleeping state when he heard Robb calling for him. He strode out of the Godswood where Robb and Theon were both waiting.

"Did we interrupt anything?" Robb asked; he knew Jon held to the Old Gods just as he did. "We can wait a few more minutes."

Jon shook his head. "I've finished my prayers. You called?"

Theon scoffed. "Did you forget we had training, Snow? I mean, come on!"

"I did, actually. I've had an… interesting day. Still a good day, though." Jon grinned at both Robb and Theon, to the latter's surprise. "...What's gotten into you today, Snow? Sansa hugging you, you being more friendly with me? You eat a bad mushroom or something?"

"Something." Jon replied. Then he paused, and looked at Theon with an unreadable stare. "...You know you're like a brother to us, right, Theon?"

The statement obviously threw the Ironborn in for a loop, as he stared at Jon. Not getting why Jon was bringing it up, Robb interjected himself anyways. "You _do_ know that, right Theon?"

"I…" the Grejoy looked lost. "You… really think of me as your brother?"

"Of course we do, you dunce! We were raised together!" Robb cried in exasperation. "You're my brother, Stark or not." He clasped Theon's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "Now come on, you two. Ser Cassel will skin us alive for being late." With that, the heir walked off, leaving Theon and Jon trailing after him. Theon shot Jon a look, and the Dragonwolf gave a thumbs up, backing Robb's earlier words.

Theon smiled. "Let's hurry, Snow. Wouldn't want to be late for your beating."

"I'll make you eat those words, Greayjoy," Jon grinned, and the two sped up after Robb.

Heaven indeed.


End file.
